Never Hang Out With People You Hate Without A Plus One
by losamantesclandestinos
Summary: COMPLETE. Deputy Chief Dodds wants Olivia to attend a NYPD Gala. She has to find a date. So she turns to an old friend from Chicago. Benoight.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note _: This isn't going to be a long story, maybe a few chapters. I'm still working through my block on my other stories. This story is the result of a rabid plot bunny that took refuge in my brain and wouldn't go away. Damn those plot bunnies. And I apologize in advance for the rather random chapter titles. I'm really not good with them._

Disclaimer _: I don't own the characters - if I did, I'd be really rich and a bit of a Dick._

 **Never Hang Out With People You Hate Without A Plus One**

 **Chapter One** : _Of Galas and Monkey Suits_

Olivia always liked these cool spring days, right before the heat of summer. Everything smelled all fresh and new and sweet. And even the smells of the city, the smog, the smoke, which could be unbearable in the brutal heat of summer, didn't bother her. Life was good.

Noah was finally hers, Johnny D was dead and she was on her way to becoming Lieutenant. Olivia still had mixed feelings about that, remembering how weary Cragen had become with the politics of his Captaincy. "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," he had told her so many times. She would joke that his red vines were an exotic form of tums to handle all the ulcers his squad (and the brass) kept giving him.

She still missed him. Having to live this new normal without him...it'd been a challenge. And sometimes she wished, oh God how she wished, he was still there with his Red Vines.

 _Take care of yourself_. _You deserve it_.

Now he was off with Eileen somewhere in the Caribbean. Maybe it was the Bahamas. She wasn't sure. The last contact they'd had was a few weeks ago and he sounded happy. And absolutely delighted about Noah.

" _I can't wait to see that boy of yours_." He'd told her, a smile lighting up his voice. There had been none of the dark weariness that had clouded his voice and face in those many years at Manhattan's Special Victims Unit.

" _And he can't wait to see you."_ She had smiled. Noah was starting to talk now and, unfortunately, his first word had not been mama but 'no.' Now he wouldn't stop using it.

" _Noah, time for bed."_

" _No."_

" _Noah, time for your bath."_

" _No."_

" _Noah, time for your disgustingly mushy peas."_ Okay, so she left the "disgustingly mushy" part out.

" _NO."_

She had told Don that and he had laughed. " _It doesn't get easier, Olivia."_ He chuckled. " _Just wait until he's a teenager and those hormones hit_."

For a moment, she had thought, _Oh holy God, what have I done_ , but that moment didn't last more than a few seconds. Noah had been the best thing to ever happen to her and she wouldn't exchange any crazy, tumultuous, (occasionally vomited filled) moment of motherhood for anything on this earth.

Olivia couldn't help but smile as she remembered Don's parting words to her as they ended their last conversation. She had mentioned some of her concerns about becoming Lieutenant and while he had understood, he also had encouraged her to go for it. He had always believed in her - always given her far more "get out of jail free" cards than she had deserved - and, despite being retired, he would always - to some degree - be her mentor.

" _As much as I hate to say it,_ " he'd said, " _Tucker's right. If you don't do it now, they'll put someone new in your place. I know you'd rather be on the street – and Fin too, and, God, how I understand that – but for the sake of the squad, you need to bite the bullet. I won't deny it's a gigantic pain in the rear but if anyone can do it, you can."_

So she had reluctantly agreed. Told him that she would sit the Lieutenant's exam.

" _That's my girl."_

And here she was, on a cool April day, walking into work - on her day off - because she had gotten an odd call from Deputy Chief Dodds. It wasn't urgent, he had reassured her, but he had wanted to see her "at her earliest convenience."

In other words, _get your ass down here, Benson_.

Luckily, Lucy was available so Olivia had left a delighted Noah chomping on some froot-loops in her care. Noah very rarely got to have sugary treats so while he'd been slightly upset that she was leaving, the moment the cereal had touched his mouth, it was like she was invisible.

 _Why are you leaving me, Mommy….oh WAIT, I NEVER GET TO HAVE FROOT-LOOPS, YAY!_

While she felt a little guilty about bribing her child with treats, it was easier leaving him happy than crying.

She could never handle his tears well.

Walking into the precinct, Olivia put her peacoat on the hanger and walked to her office where she saw Dodds flipping through some case files.

"Afternoon, Deputy Chief," she said pleasantly. Dodds turned around and nodded. "Afternoon, Sergeant." And this time he was almost… _nice_ – which threw her for a moment. She wasn't accustomed to his civility – normally, he was on her ass about something.

"Do you have plans April 16th?" He asked.

"Only working, sir." She responded.

"Not planning on going to the NYPD Gala?" He asked.

"Not particularly, no." She said slowly. Olivia _despised_ those types of functions. Just a bunch of rich people standing around and schmoozing. And, although they raised a lot of money for charity, Olivia secretly wondered whether most of it didn't go to line some of the pockets of the top brass. But she never vocalized that.

Plus, the whole make-up, dressing up part of it – she hated it. She was always much more comfortable in her work clothes or sweatpants at home – wearing anything too dressy around a rambunctious toddler was just asking for trouble. It'd only taken her a few times of baby spit up on some of her nicer clothes for her to figure that out.

 _#NewMomProblems_

"Well, now you are." Dodds closed the case file firmly.

"I'm sorry but is that an order?"

"I don't like to think of it that way. Just think of it as a strongly worded request with no option to say no."

"But, sir…"

"Sergeant Benson," he said, a hint of exasperation strong in his voice, "if you're planning on rising up through the ranks, you're going to have to get involved with the politics of the job. Consider this a test run."

 _No is not an option_. The unspoken words were crystal clear.

God, Liv hated being boxed in like this but she wasn't going to fight him on it. _Pick your battles wisely, Olivia_ , Cragen had told her once. _And don't wage a war when you don't have to_.

"Yes, sir," she said resignedly.

"Good." He gave her a tight smile and walked past her. "I'll see you April 16th."

"Oh," Dodds spoke over his shoulder as he headed towards the precinct door, "you might want to bring a guest. There'll be dancing."

 _Oh, hell no_.

Liv barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes as Dodds walked out the door. _Great. Just great._

There was no way in hell she was going through this misery all on her own.

And she knew exactly who she was going to call.

A slow smile spread across her face and a twinkle appeared in her eye.

Olivia Benson knew the perfect person for this assignment.

He was going to HATE it.

But if she was going to suffer through this evening, she'd be damned if she was doing it alone.

…...

"No."

"It's just one evening. Only for a few hours."

"No."

"There'll be bourbon."

There was a pause over the phone as if the person on the other line was seriously considering the proposal.

"Will the brass be there?"

"Yes. And the Mayor. And the..." Olivia named a few of New York's richest and elite families.

"Then not just no but _hell_ no."

"You're starting to sound like Noah." Olivia mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, he's still using the word I taught him then?"

"That was YOU?" _Goddamn you to hell, Hank Voight, I'm going to kick your ass._

Voight barked out a laugh. "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."

"I knew it. You owe me, you son-of-a-bitch."

"Good to hear from you too, Olivia. Seriously. It's been a long time."

"Too long." She agreed, with a small smile.

"You've been on my mind. Especially that time when you..." and the voice on the phone starts down memory lane.

"Henry Voight, you stop that!" Olivia scolded the rough-around-the-edges Chicago Sergeant, her friend, and occasional friend with some damn good benefits. That thing he did with his mouth...goddamn it, now he's gotten her started.

"So do I get anything out of this deal?" She could practically see him smirk over the phone line.

"Yeah." She said consideringly.

"And?" Benson could hear his ears perk up – if that was even possible.

"You get to see me squeeze my ass into a ball gown, eat dinner without busting out of said ball gown and try to suck up to the brass." She grinned.

"One, I can't wait to see that ass. Two, I'd enjoy seeing you "bust" out of that gown..." he grinned, "three, the only person you should be _sucking_...up to is me."

Liv rolled her eyes. "Promise me you're going to behave. My boss is going to be there and the last thing we need is you pulling your shenanigans around New York high society."

"Me? Misbehave?" He said innocently. "What makes you think I'd even try to do something like that?"

Olivia rolled her eyes again. "That better have been a rhetorical question."

On the other end of the phone, the Chicago cop simply grinned.

"Okay, then, it's settled. April 16th. Can you get a flight out here?"

"Sure. I just need to make sure the kids don't burn down the house."

Olivia sighed but smiled a little. "Don't you think you need to let the reins relax a little there?"

"Would you let Noah try to run your kitchen?"

Deliberately refraining from pointing out that her son was a toddler and his squad members were grown adults, she let him have his point.

"See you soon, Hank. Thanks for helping me out. It'll be fun." Olivia was lying through her teeth but she was determined to make the best of this.

"Okay, let's be clear- an evening of hanging out with the brass, trying to be nice to fancy-ass New York pansies and wearing a monkey suit does not equal _fun_ for me. For a cop, you're a horrible liar. Fun, my ass. You owe me big time, Benson."

" _You_ taught Noah to say no!"

" _You're_ making me hang out with _those_ people. For an evening. With _dancing_." He spat out with disgust.

"Call it even?"

"Not even, Olivia. You owe me."

"And how do you think you're going to collect?" She grinned.

"I think you know." His gravelly voice got softer and deeper.

And her face flushed. "Well, okay then. I'll see you on the sixteenth."

"It's a date."

"No, it's not." They'd never defined what they had and Olivia was not about to start now. Plus, she hated dates. They never ended well.

"Now who sounds like Noah?" Voight teased.

And grinned as he heard something like a muffled "bite me" as Olivia hung up the phone.

Maybe the sixteenth wouldn't be so bad after all.

For either of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** _Words in italics are Noah._

 **Disclaimer** : _Characters are not mine. If they were, I'd be rich and a total Dick._

Chapter Two: **Facing A Firing Squad Naked Covered With Red Ants**

There was nothing that Olivia hated more – well, except for the perps she dealt with on a daily basis – than shopping. And, more specifically, shopping for dresses. It always took too long, she had to try on at least ten dresses to find one that didn't want to make her yack, and invariably there was always an encounter with pushy salespeople.

She'd rather have her nails ripped out by their roots.

But she was making progress. In the comfortable dressing room, there were already four dresses slung over the chair rejected for being too tight, being too revealing (while Liv didn't mind some cleavage, she figured that wearing a dress with a neckline cut down to her navel would not endear her to her boss), and for being fantastic-looking-on-the-mannequin- but-hideous-on-an-actual-human-being.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the next one, a brilliant fire-engine red and held it up against her. The color was good, the fabric was comfortable and it might be roomy enough to allow her to eat more than two bites. When she tried it on, however… she'd be lucky to manage half a quarter of a bite of food.

Olivia Benson _really_ hated dress shopping.

About ready to give up, she was leaving the upscale boutique when another dress caught her eye. Wandering over to the mannequin, she looked at it up and down, walked around, looked at the back.

"May I try this one?" She asked the salesperson, hovering anxiously in the background.

"Certainly."

Ten minutes later, Olivia was in love.

With a damn dress.

…

Hank Voight hated suits.

Hank Voight hated tuxedos.

Hank Voight hated the brass.

Hank Voight hated tiny little fancy-ass French-named food that would never even begin to take care of an appetite.

And, most of all, he hated the idea of having to spend an evening stuffed into a tuxedo and hang around with these people most of whom he was pretty sure had forgotten what it was like to walk the streets. They'd all been too busy sitting up in their goddamned ivory towers, with their brownstones on the Upper East side and their arm candy, usually platinum blonde in their mid-twenties who looked like all they did was spend their entire life baking in the sun.

Straight out of a cliché.

This wasn't his world. And it never would be.

So why had he said yes?

He really didn't have to think too hard on that one. The truth was he couldn't say no to Olivia. Oh, he might pretend to and make her work really hard to get him to agree to doing her a favor but, in the long run, she had him by the balls. He just couldn't say no.

And he wasn't quite sure why. They weren't together. Liv had never really indicated that she wanted anything more than an occasional weekend together, spent usually between the sheets. And Voight wasn't going to push her on it because, truth be told, he wasn't sure what he wanted either. He loved Chicago, had a great squad – and had absolutely no desire to transfer to a city where the taxes would bleed you dry.

At least in Chicago you could count on keeping at least some of your blood.

But Hank Voight couldn't deny that there was something absolutely irresistible about Olivia Benson.

She had him from the moment she threatened to arrest him. Nothing he liked better than a woman who'd challenge him on his shit, who was his equal in every way that mattered.

So when Olivia Benson called asking for a favor, he simply couldn't say no.

And he'd never really want to, either.

Throwing some clothes into a suitcase and putting his rarely worn tuxedo into a garment bag (aka, a hanger and a flimsy plastic bag), Voight made a quick call.

"You call me if you need anything. If shit goes down, I'll get on the first flight back."

"Hank, we're gonna be fine." Erin Lindsay sighed in fond exasperation. "Just go and have a good time."

"Getting a root canal would be more fun than this." Voight grumbled. "In fact, I'd happily have a root canal after this."

"Suck it up, Hank. Give my best to Olivia." Lindsay smiled into the receiver.

"Will do. You stay away from Halstead."

"Hank." Erin rolled her eyes.

"I mean it."

"Go away."

"Take care, kid." He chuckled and hung up. Erin Lindsay was the closest thing he had to a daughter and, as much as he respected Jay Halstead, he was nowhere near good enough for Erin.

 _Let the kids be_ , _Hank_. Voight could almost hear Olivia's amused chuckle in his head.

Shaking his head, he smiled, shouldered his bags and headed to the airport.

….

Olivia looked at her watch as she sat in her SUV by the curb of the airport. It was almost 12:30 and Voight should have landed 25 minutes ago and she couldn't stay parked at in this spot for much longer. The traffic cops had already given her the evil eye but had backed off when she had unashamedly showed her badge. With the amount of congestion around JFK, there was no way she was going to circle around the airport again – she and Noah had been there for an hour already.

Olivia bit her lip, looking at her watch for what seemed like the fifteenth time. She had this odd sensation in her stomach – almost like butterflies – but it was just Hank. Why was she so nervous? It was just _Hank_.

It must be the thought of the Gala. Yeah, that was it.

Several hours of schmoozing, boozing, and dancing with New York's finest. She groaned. The more she thought about this evening, the less she wanted to do it. Olivia would much rather face a firing squad. At least she didn't have to do it alone and for that she was grateful. And even more grateful to Hank for biting the bullet and agreeing to do it with her.

Especially since from their conversations on the phone, he sounded like he'd be happier to have his teeth ripped out.

He was right- she really did owe him big time.

"NO." A small and feisty voice from the back of the car interrupted her thoughts. Noah loved riding in the car but he most decidedly did not love being strapped into a car seat.

Olivia rolled her eyes. She really was going to kill Voight for teaching him that word.

"It's okay, baby." She reached back and patted Noah who was chattering away in his car seat. "We're just waiting for Uncle Hank."

 _I don't like being strapped into this thing. LET. ME. OUT._

Noah let out an indignant squawk.

"No, Noah, you can't get out of the car seat. You have to stay there."

"No, mama. No." Noah started crying.

 _I HATE THIS CONTRAPTION. GET. ME. OUT. If you don't, I'll keep screaming. And I know how you hate it when I scream…. Wait, do you have froot-loops?_

Right at that moment when Noah was getting ready to howl, Voight knocked on the car door. With relief, Olivia leaned over and opened the door.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Sergeant." He greeted her with a broad grin and leaned down to give her a kiss on the mouth. She smiled against the heat of his mouth on hers. She'd never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

"It's good to see you, Hank." Olivia smiled. "Thanks for doing this."

"We'll discuss payment later." He warned her, a twinkle in his eye.

She rolled her eyes at him and kissed him back, forgetting, for a moment, that they had an audience. "Promises, promises."

"HIIIIIII!" A loud shriek interrupted their kiss. Noah was not happy about being ignored.

 _Stop that mouth touching thing. It's gross._

"Sorry about that," Olivia blushed, smiling a little awkwardly.

Noah reached out his arms for "Uncle" Hank. _You're the guy who gives me froot-loops!_

"Hey, kiddo." Hank reached behind him and touched the baby's hand. Noah burbled with excitement.

"So," Olivia grinned at him as he got into the car, "looking forward to tonight?"

He simply gave her a glare. "I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me that."

"Come on," she teased, "it's going to be fun."

"Says the woman who, I quote, said she'd rather face a firing squad naked covered with red ants. Interesting mental visual, by the way."

Olivia smacked his arm. "It won't be that bad."

"Again, may I remind you about our conversation last week on Tuesday."

"Dammit, sometimes I wish you didn't remember _everything_." She complained.

"It's why you love me." He smirked.

"Can your head _get_ any larger, Hank Voight?"

"I don't know…why don't we find out?" He gave her a mocking leer.

"Oh my God, I don't know why I put up with you." Olivia rolled her eyes.

"One, you love me. Two, because you need a plus one."

"One, in your dreams. Two, good point." She smiled.

"It really _is_ good to see you, Benson." Voight gripped her hand.

 _AND ME TOO._ Noah made a little wail from the back seat.

"And you too, kiddo." Hank grinned.

Noah giggled in delight.

 _Did you bring me froot-loops?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note** : _Strong T warning for minor sexy-times and language. Don't yell at me. Voight cusses like a sailor. It's not my fault. The characters write themselves and yell at me when I try to do things differently._

Chapter Three: **Everything But The Glass Slipper**

"You've been such a good baby," Olivia cooed at Noah, trying to get him to eat his peas.

Her son gave her a beady eyed stare. _Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. You know how much I hate those things._

"No, mama."

Olivia sighed with exasperation. She had really better remember to throttle Hank for teaching Noah that word.

"Just one bite for mommy?" She was embarrassed to hear a note of pleading in her voice. Olivia Benson, a sixteen year veteran of the NYPD, was not going to be manipulated by a toddler.

 _Are you kidding me, Mommy? Have you even tried this stuff? It's gross. Can I have ice cream? That has milk. It must be good for me._

"He's not eating his food?" Her nanny, Lucy, entered with a sympathetic smile.

"No." Olivia sighed. "He really won't. He hates the taste of vegetables."

Lucy bent over Noah. "Are you being a picky eater, Noah?"

 _No. I can eat anything. Just as long as it tastes good. Peas don't taste good._

"I'll try applesauce." Olivia went over to the kitchen and got out a jar of organic applesauce.

"Olivia, I can do that. Isn't it about time for you to get ready?" Lucy glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Oh sh…." Olivia stopped before she said the 's-word' in front of her child.

 _Don't think I don't know what you were going to say, Mommy. I might be a baby but I'm not stupid._

"I'll take care of him." Lucy smiled. "I'm sure he'll enjoy the applesauce. He usually does."

 _No. I. Want. Cookies._

"Thanks, Lucy." Olivia gave her a grateful smile, leaned down and kissed Noah. "Eat your applesauce, baby and then you can play with Elmo."

 _I hate applesa…wait, ELMO? Yay, ELMO!_

Leaving Noah babbling excitedly to Lucy, Olivia went to take a shower and prepare for the evening. _Benson, buck up,_ she told herself, _you're not actually going to be tortured and Hank's going to be with you. The evening isn't going to be an entire waste of time._

Especially if she was going to see Voight in a tuxedo. She'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't imagined how he'd look. She was so used to seeing him in his usual armor of black or brown leather jacket and jeans that she couldn't even wrap around her mind around him dressed up in black tie.

She'd see soon enough.

Now to the part she hated. Hair preparation and makeup. _It's just one night, Benson, just one night_. Inhaling deeply, she stepped into the shower.

…

Hank Voight stood looking at himself in the mirror, scowling.

Fucking monkey suit.

Fucking fancy ass galas.

Fucking jet lag and lousy naps.

And fucking bowties.

He looked with distaste at the bowtie in his hand. As if he wasn't suffering enough indignity by having to go to this thing in the first place, he had to wear a damned bowtie. He should have gotten a tie. Cursing, he tossed the thing on the bed.

It'd been several years since he'd even put on the tuxedo – he really had no use for it these days but, surprisingly, the suit still fit. Oh, it was tight in areas, a little uncomfortable with the cummerbund around the stomach, but, overall, a decent fit.

Rubbing his hand behind his neck, he glared at his reflection. He kept telling himself he didn't know why the hell he was even doing it but deep down he knew why. Hank Voight liked Olivia Benson. Liked her a lot. And not just in the "I want to bang her all the time" way but on a much deeper level than that.

Since his wife had died, Voight had been a loner. His job, his son, and Erin had been the only things he had truly cared about, truly lived for. He had had no interest in getting involved with anybody seriously and the few women he had seen were usually one or two night flings. Voight hadn't want to connect with any of them on a deeper level than just the occasional roll between the sheets and a sports game. As far as he had been concerned, he'd had his one great love and that was done and so was he.

Until Olivia.

From the beginning, there'd been sparks. Granted, those sparks had mostly been the "I want to throw your ass in jail" "I'd like to see you try" kind. Voight hadn't had much patience with the way Benson conducted her investigations (the touchy-feely crap was really not his thing and it took too goddamned long) but it was undeniable that she was a good cop. And her methods worked.

He would never forget the way she had coaxed Chris Sepka's whereabouts out of his victimizer in the cage, by appealing to the residual scrap of humanity that the man had left. A humanity that Voight thought no longer existed.

 _When it comes to kids, offenders who kept their mouths shut or had their lawyers handle It, I would see them years later in prison and they were zombies, eaten alive from the inside out, because they had the chance to do what was right, even after all the bad they had done…_

 _I know deep down there's still a human being in there…_

It was at that moment that Olivia Benson got Hank Voight's respect.

And something else.

His admiration.

Although they still consistently butted heads, their working relationship had flourished into a friendship, nourished over deep dish pizza (when in Chicago) beer, and frequent Skype conversations. And then one night, an impulsive kiss on the cheek from Olivia turned into a rather steamy make-out session out in Central Park, under a large oak tree.

Despite the aggravating tuxedo, Voight grinned to himself at the memories. And sobered up as he realized just how crazy he was about her.

It'd been a few months now and they hadn't defined what was between them. Neither of them had really wanted to do that. The sex was fantastic and the connection between them comfortable and warm. And why ruin a good thing, Voight told himself, she was in New York, he was in Chicago.

What they had was good enough.

But she was a fucking fantastic woman and a hell of a cop.

And then he looked over at his bed and eyed the bow tie with disgust.

 _Fuck this shit_.

A sharp rap on the door interrupted him from his thoughts. Relieved not to have to worry about the goddamned bow tie for a few more moments, he strode to the door and opened it.

Olivia Benson was standing there, hand in mid-air getting to rap at his door again.

And Henry Voight forgot to breathe.

But maybe that was the damn suit.

…..

Olivia took a deep breath as she got ready to knock on Voight's door. It had taken her a good hour and a half to get ready, she was a little cranky because she was hungry and knew it'd probably be another couple hours before she could eat anything substantial, and she really didn't want to go.

 _So you're complaining about dressing up in a gorgeous evening gown, spending the evening with a man you are definitely attracted to, eating good food, dancing with wine. Talk about your first world problems, Olivia._

She rapped on Hank's door.

When he opened the door, she forgot to breathe.

But it was definitely due to the damn dress.

….

Hank Voight wasn't sure how long he stood there without actually saying a word. It could have been thirty seconds or a minute but it felt like an hour. But he simply couldn't get words out.

Funny for a man who always had something to say.

He desperately needed something to drink.

 _It's just Olivia, goddammit, the Olivia you've worked with, shared beers with, and shared your bed with. THAT Olivia. Open your mouth and don't be such an ass._

Voight didn't know dresses. Not his thing and not really Erin's thing either and he didn't give a damn about the difference between satin, chiffon, taffeta, silk. He didn't even know the fucking names for the material. But this stuff that Liv was wearing, it was all long, and fitted, and white and shimmery. Or was it white? When it caught the light the right way, it almost looked like it was silver. And when she moved, it moved with her and it was if she was clothed in Chicago moonlight.

Because only Chicago moonlight looked as beautiful.

The neckline was scooped into a deep v, exposing smooth and tanned cleavage, offset by a stunning silver and pale pinkish necklace, with large stones. The waistline was fitting, nipping in at the waist slightly, and the skirt flared at the bottom, with a small train.

Her long chestnut hair was long and loose in waves around her shoulders and she wore a small smile on her face, her cheeks flushing faintly.

"Do I have something stuck in my teeth?" She teased him, relishing his discomfort and also flattered by it. He was looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

"You look...different." Voight uncharacteristically stumbled over his words.

Olivia raised his eyebrow. "Wow, Hank, you really know how to flatter a woman."

Voight's only response was to walk over to her and pull her tight against him, his mouth fusing on hers.

Reaching behind her neck, he twined his fingers through her locks, a little roughly but not enough to mess her look. (He knew better.)

Finally, after one heated moment, he let her go.

"Goddamn, Olivia." Was all he could manage. Where the fuck were his words tonight? He felt like a goddamned awkward school boy.

 _Shit, this was going to be delightful. An evening of torture and awkward sexual tension. Fabulous._

She smiled at him softly, a smile she usually reserved for Noah. "Best compliment I've ever gotten, Hank Voight."

Stepping back a little, she looked him up and down. Voight looked surprisingly natural in his tuxedo. He wasn't a tall man but he was broad and burly. The jacket looked like it was straining a little to hold his broad shoulders but he wore it like a second skin. And when he kissed her, he smelled like pine and the streets and beer and pizza.

He smelled like home.

"Cat got your tongue, Benson?" Voight teased, his brown eyes crinkling with warmth.

"You're missing something..." Olivia mused, refusing to feed his ego.

"Well, damn, that's harsh." Voight made a mock hurt face.

"The bow tie." Olivia snapped.

Voight scowled.

"You couldn't tie it, could you?" She smirked. "Well, well, well...there's something that the almighty Hank Voight actually couldn't do."

"Shut it, Benson." He grumbled. "Let's see how well you handle it."

Olivia picked up the bow tie, placed it around his neck.. _Voight's pretending that he can't smell her faint scent of orange blossom and honey_... and fixed it.

All within 30 seconds.

"There." She said, smirking. "Wasn't that hard, was it?"

Goddamn it.

"Ready to go?"

Voight scowled again.

"Oh, for God's sake, Hank Voight, you're not going to your execution." Benson scolded.

"Yeah, I know. It's worse." He muttered.

"It'll be fine." She patted his arm.

"You're one to talk. You couldn't stop complaining about it last week."

She blushed. To Voight, she'd never looked more beautiful.

"Wait, Olivia." He laid a hand on her arm.

"We're going to be late." She turned to him, frowning slightly, her nose wrinkled at him.

"To hell with that." Voight responded and pulled her close. "I think we've got time for this."

And his mouth touched hers and Olivia was lost.

 _It's all heat and fire with him and the first time he kisses her, she almost forgets her own name. His tongue is in her mouth, tangling with hers, and his hand is running through her hair, yanking her locks down from her messy chignon. He pushes against her, the hardness of him hot against her thigh. His mouth trails kisses against her throat and neck and she's wrapped around him like a vine..._

… _.and now she's under him, legs spread, he's thrusting into her like there's no tomorrow. Voight's not a gentle man and that carries over to the bedroom. But she doesn't mind, his fierceness lights a fire in her and she responds eagerly. When he enters her from behind, hands rough and gentle against her skin, she explodes. And, together they lay, limbs entwined, his mouth lazily brushing her neck as they both come down._

This time he was the one to pull back. "Come on." He said, with a smirk as he brushes his knuckle against her chin. "We're going to be late."

"Wait." She spluttered, partly aroused still. "Wha..." _Dammit, Hank Voight, you don't get to do this to me._

Voight chuckled, laced his fingers through hers, and they both walked out of his room.

She glared at him. "Payback's a bitch, Voight."

"Can't wait to collect, Benson." He smirked.

And, for the first time since she'd asked him to be her "date", he wasn't dreading it.


	4. Chapter 4

Lyrics from: _My One and Only Love_ , John Coltrane & _I've Got You Under My Skin,_ Frank Sinatra.

Recognizable quotes from _Law and Order:SVU_.

Chapter 4: **Why Dancing IS Not Torture – Although It Might Seem Like It**

 _In which Olivia and Hank dance and some things are realized._

Olivia Benson had never been a fan of dancing. While she wasn't rhythmically challenged at all – far from it – she had never really enjoyed it. At least with her previous partners. And Brian had never wanted to dance at all. He used to say that he looked like a monkey and c'mon, Liv, dancing lessons? He'd rather hear fingernails go down a chalkboard or get beat up by an informant. If there was a choice between dancing and water boarding, Brian would choose water boarding. Every. Single. Time.

So they had never done the dance lesson thing. And, after Lewis, well, dancing had been the last thing on her mind.

So the thought of getting up in front of literally hundreds of people made her sweat. She could collar a perp with no problem, interrogate a serial killer and rapist without breaking a sweat. But dancing? At a formal Gala in front of her boss? In front of New York's richest families? She'd rather walk across a mat of burning hot coals. That'd be far less painful.

And far less awkward. Plus, it was Hank Voight. As much as she liked him – and from that moment in his hotel room, it was clear just how much he liked her too – the thought of being that close to him in public made her apprehensive. What if those people could see the sparks between them? What if they started speculating about the nature of their relationship? She wasn't ready for that.

Maybe this whole date thing with Voight had been a huge mistake. Taking a large swallow of her expensive red wine (hell, if she was going to do this thing, she was not going to get through it without alcohol), Olivia wondered if she would have been better off taking someone like Munch. They were friends still, comfortable and from time to time, she stop down and visit the bar he finally opened in his semi-retirement.

She could just imagine his pithy and snarky commentary about the various people coming in the room.

How she missed him.

 _I miss you most of all, too, old friend_.

Or Nick. She could have called Nick who, despite being thousands of miles away on the West Coast, would have happily come back to help her out. It had broken her heart a little more than it already had been after Elliot's departure when Nick had chosen to get out and move to be closer to Gil and Zara. She couldn't blame him; he really had no future with the NYPD except behind a desk. And that was a waste for him.

But Olivia still talked to Nick on a regular basis and he was happy there. He had started reevaluating things with Gil's mother and while they weren't super serious yet, they were finding that the connection they had back when he was undercover wasn't totally gone. It was good to hear him happy.

 _Because of you, I have a family_.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Voight sat down besides her, whiskey neat in hand.

"They're not worth that much." She smiled.

"Bullshit. I bet they're worth at least a nickel." He grinned at her.

"Well, well," she cocked an eyebrow at him, "this Voight looks better than the one who earlier looked like I was marching him to his execution."

"Alcohol can do wonders." Voight raised his glass.

"It sure can." Olivia took another generous sip of her wine.

"You sure you don't want some of this?" Hank winked at her. "Get's the job done faster."

Olivia hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was be intoxicated in front of her bosses but a couple of drinks wouldn't hurt. She knew her tolerance. And a sip of whiskey certainly would be okay.

So she took it out of Voight's hand and took a large sip.

And spluttered.

Voight chuckled.

She gave him a beady-eyed stare – much like the ones he'd often see on Noah. Like mother, like son. Two peas in a pod.

"Let me explain something, Benson, since it looks like you don't drink whiskey much." He said, with a smirk. "You normally sip it."

"Bite me, Henry Voight." She snapped, still spluttering a little. But he was right. It had been a while since she had had whiskey. And she had set herself up for that.

 _You make it so easy for him, Benson_. She sighed to herself. But, truth be told, she didn't mind.

She rather enjoyed the teasing and sparring.

"Oh, trust me," He winked at her, "there'll be plenty of _that_ later."

"Hank Voight!" She whispered, looking around. "Not here."

"Oh, loosen up." He took another swig from his whiskey.

And that's when the music started to play. Olivia admitted that they had done a really wonderful job with the band – some big name group from the City that did a variety of music, jazz, old big band favorites, some modern tunes. Before she knew it, she found her foot tapping to one songs that she had remembered her mother playing, in one of those moments when Serena hadn't been totally lost to the alcohol.

" _Come dance with me, Olivia." And Serena had taken the little Olivia's hands and started dancing with her. The two of them had danced all over their small apartment and Serena had been smiling, really smiling...one of the few times Olivia remembered her doing so._

"Come back to me, Olivia." Voight nudged her gently.

"Sorry." She smiled apologetically. "Got lost in the music, I guess." And she found herself telling Voight about that memory. Wasn't sure why she did...must be the red wine and whiskey loosening her tongue.

"This song," she told him quietly, "brought me back to one of the few times that I can remember being truly happy." The look in her eyes was nostalgic, there was a softness there that Voight really only saw sometimes with him and all of the time with Noah. "It's not that I'm unhappy or miserable all the time." She quickly explained. "But there are those times when everything seems perfect, just little moments that stay crystalized in your memory because they're pure joy."

"I have a few of those." Voight said quietly. He didn't elaborate.

 _He and Camille on their wedding day, twirling around the dance floor. Back before he had developed two left feet. Her blue eyes shining up into his, a smile so brilliant it could light the whole dance floor. Which, admittedly, wasn't too big since their reception place was small. It was all they could really afford in those days._

He reached for her hand and said quietly. "Dance with me."

Olivia hesitated only a little bit – _oh, God, this could be terrible –_ but then put her hand in his.

It was time to take a leap of faith.

…...

 _The shadows fall_  
 _And spread their mystic charms_  
 _In the hush of night_  
 _While you're in my arms_  
 _I feel your lips so warm and tender_  
 _My one and only love_

Few moments in life we remember as perfect. And Hank Voight could probably list all of his on one hand, two if he really stretched it. His happiest moments had been restricted to Camille, Justin (and now Olive and Joseph Henry) and Erin.

But this moment here, now, with Benson in his arms? This was coming pretty damn close to being as perfect a moment as one man could have. He could see the envying looks from police officers in their formal dress blues, many of them decidedly not single. Hank hadn't missed the stunned look on their faces when they had first entered the room.

Olivia Benson was breathtaking. Clothed in silver moonlight, she put the other women in the room to shame, most of whom were sticking with the safe choice of black. And he had been proud that this woman was his. (He kept that thought to himself, though – Olivia Benson was really nobody's and she'd smack him if she even thought he had thought that.)

 _I'm my own_ , he could imagine her telling him tartly, _I don't belong to anyone_.

Least of all to a rough-around-the-edges, not-just-bend-the-rules-but-break-them cop from Chicago.

Well, even if she wasn't his in the strictest sense of the word, he was hers. At least for the night. And he was going to make the most of it, dammit.

So he pulled her in close to him, her warm body flush against his. And they started swaying to the music, his hand rough but gentle on her bare back, breath warm against her ear.

…...

Olivia had truly dreaded this part. She had dreaded the idea of going out to the dance floor and embarrassing herself. And, to be honest, she had had no idea whether Hank was even a decent dancer or not so she was dreading that too. But she wouldn't tell him that. And she certainly wasn't going to say no because she was afraid of humiliating herself.

Olivia realized that she had a tendency to play things safe. Most people did. It was frightening to be in an unfamiliar place where you can be terrifyingly vulnerable. So many eyes watching you, not missing one mistake that you make. And that was really why she hated these things. She felt so exposed. At work, at home, she was comfortable. She knew the territory and the people.

But the eyes of elitist strangers eyeing her every move? Terrifying as all hell.

However, when she looked up at Hank, and saw the look in his eyes – _hell, he was just as nervous as she was_ – she made up her mind. She wasn't going to let him them intimidate her. To hell with all those people gawking at her – and her cleavage – oh, yes, she hadn't missed the ogling – she was going to dance with Hank Voight, dammit, and it was going to be spectacular.

And to her surprise, it was.

Much better than nails on a chalkboard. And certainly better than water boarding.

Voight pulled her close and it was...it was comfortable. _Almost like coming home_. And he was _good_. The man could really dance. And it felt natural.

Definitely not like torture.

She pulled back a little and smiled at him.

"You never fail to surprise me, Hank Voight."

"What?" He said, mock-hurt. "You thought I was going to dance all over your feet?"

"The thought _had_ occurred to me." Olivia smirked.

"Hey, I might not be able to tie a goddamned bow tie, but it doesn't mean I'm totally lacking in class." He said, indignantly.

She grinned.

"Okay, maybe slightly lacking in class. But my point stands." He grumbled.

And Olivia Benson laughed. A rich, straight-from-the belly laugh.

And that moment was when Hank Voight realized he was head over heels for this gorgeous, smart, take-no-prisoners, New York cop.

When she laughed. That goddamned sweet, breathtaking, sunburst of laughter.

But, hell, he'd be damned if let her know.

They were just friends.

Or whatever this was.

So he kept smiling, laughed with her, pulled her in close after a twirl, and pretended his life hadn't irrevocably changed.

…...

" _Okay, maybe slightly lacking in class. But my point still stands_." Hank grumbled that out and Olivia stared at him. And maybe it was the wine and whiskey but she started to laugh. Not just a fake polite laugh but a true, right from the belly laugh. She laughed in a way she hadn't in a very long time.

Since before Lewis.

And as she tried to repress her giggles, she noticed something in his eyes. Like he was seeing her for the first time. And that what he was seeing was beautiful and remarkable and everything he could have asked for. And the look in his eyes took her aback.

And it scared her a little. She'd seen that look before.

 _I'm not going anywhere._

 _I love you._

 _I love you too, Brian, always will_.

 _We're partners. For better or worse._

But, instead of running (which she could have done but what would have been hell in her Jimmy Choos), she went into his arms instead.

And looked in his eyes again, scanning them closely. And what she saw didn't frighten her.

Because she felt it too. And it felt right.

He pulled her tight against her, almost an embrace, and they kept dancing.

And it was at that moment Olivia Benson's life changed irrevocably.

She was in love with him.

But, hell, she'd be damned if she told him.

…...

 _I've tried so not to give in_

 _You know I said to myself, This affair ain't gonna go so well_

 _Oh but why should I try to resist, when baby, I know so well_

 _That I've got you way under my skin_


	5. Chapter 5

_I've got you under my skin._  
 _I've got you deep in the heart of me._  
 _So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me._  
 _I've got you under my skin._

 _Author's Note: Excuse the change of tense halfway through this chapter. It just felt like it needed to be that way. Like I said, the characters don't always let me write this the way I had planned. Oh, yeah, and the story ends on an M here. ;) Lyrics are from 'I've Got You Under My Skin.'_

Chapter 5: **When The Masks Come Off**

"You survived tonight." Hank grinned as he opened Benson's car door. "More importantly," he followed up with a typical Voight smirk, "so did I."

Olivia laughed, a little tiredly. "I still don't want to repeat that anytime soon."

"Oh, come on," he teased her, "not even for the pleasure of my company?"

Olivia smiled and pretended to consider. "Well...still no."

Hank pretended to pout. "I'm hurt."

"Get that look off your face." She rolled her eyes. "Noah tries that a lot and it doesn't work." Olivia thought for a moment. "Well, not usually."

They drove off from the Gala, Olivia leaning her head back against her chair and closing her eyes.

"I had a good time with you tonight, Voight."

"You sound surprised."

"Only surprised that I didn't totally hate the Gala."

"Well, I can make anything better." He grinned.

"You and your ego." Olivia rolled her eyes again.

"You know it's true." He smiled at her. "How can anyone resist this handsome guy? I charmed them all. Although, Benson, does that boss of yours always walk around with a stick up his ass?"

"Oh, come on, the Deputy Chief wasn't so bad. He actually was very relaxed tonight."

" _That's_ relaxed?" Voight's face was plastered with shock. "God, I'd hate to have to work with him."

"He's not bad." She said. "He's tough but a good cop."

"I'd kill him after the first day."

"Why? Because he won't let you pull your usual shit?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You know it's true, Hank."

He shrugged. "I still don't like him."

"You don't have to." She patted his hand.

…...

The drive to his hotel didn't take long. He had the valet park it and both he and Benson walked into the hotel.

He turned to her, "Care for a nightcap?" And his face was serious, his eyes scanning her face. They both knew what he was really asking. Olivia's stomach fluttered a little because she sensed this time was different.

Both of them had felt things at that Gala, she knew. He hadn't said anything to her then or afterwards, but she had seen it in his eyes. And she had felt it too. This...this moment had been a long time coming. If she was truthful with herself, it had been coming long before he had come to that door in that tuxedo that molded the lines of his body.

"Simple question, Olivia." He said quietly. She heard a note of anxiety in his voice, even though he was clearly trying to hide it.

"Yes." She said.

And this time, Olivia was the one who laced her fingers through his hand.

…...

The ride in the elevator was tense. Both of them knew what was coming and both were nervous but trying to pretend it was just another night. One of many they had shared already.

Trying to ignore the elephant in the room, the unspoken words that lay between them, heavy as stones. Finally, the last passenger exited before their floor and the door shut.

Olivia: _I don't know how to do this_.

Hank: _I haven't felt this way since Camille. How do I even tell her that without her bolting. I know the pain she's been through._

Olivia: _I've heard these words before. And everyone has left me. What will make this different_?

The door opened to his floor and they both proceeded to his room in silence. He opened the door, hand a little unsteady has he slipped the key in the lock.

They both stepped in and he closed the door behind him. Voight turned to her and said, "Olivia..."

And she's the one who, surprisingly to both her and Voight, moves first. She steps close to him, fingers removing his bow tie. "Let me help you with that," Olivia says softly, a faint smile. "You had some trouble last time."

"That's the only thing I'll have trouble with." He says hoarsely. She's so close to him and he can't get her scent out of his mind, it permeneates everything. And he puts a rough hand against her back and pulls her to him.

Throwing the tie on the floor, he growls, "Forget the fucking tie." And his mouth comes down on hers, hot and savage, his hands running up and down her back. And all he can feel is her. Her scent, her mouth, her body, everything.

He should have known. One taste of Olivia Benson and he was a goner.

Had been from the moment they had first touched in Central Park.

Too bad it took an evening of near-torture (okay, well not quite) to realize that.

And her fingers are light against him, undoing his buttons on his shirt. Both of them have waited too long. And she can feel how much he wants her against her lower body and she can hardly stand it. His mouth is on her neck now, sometimes nibbling, sometimes just kissing, and sometimes it feels like a bite. But she doesn't his roughness.

Voight's a rough man, at work and at play. But his roughness is surprisingly tempered with gentleness as his fingers work the zipper on the back of her dress, calloused fingers running against the heat of her tan skin.

And soon his shirt his off, and his cummerbund, and his pants. Her dress is a pile on the floor. Slipping off her bra and panties, her fingers scrape down his bare torso, lightly tweaking his nipples, reaching past the band of his boxers. And Voight hisses as her hand wraps around him. And he's so warm and hot and hard.

Thrusting into her hand, his mouth devours hers, hand running up and down her shoulder, tongue tangling with hers. And, God, he just wants to be wrapped up in her. So when she squeezes him a little bit, he growls into her ear, "Stop that or it'll be over before it started."

The blush that spreads across her face is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Benson..." He growls. He isn't playing.

Smirking over her shoulder, she gets down on all fours on his bed, her brown hair sweeping across her her back. Now totally naked, he crawls behind her, and slides her back against him. Enough foreplay.

He doesn't slam into her, though. Not at first. He enters her slowly, sliding in and out, hands playing on her full breasts, tweaking her nipples until they're hard. He's muttering words against her neck but she's so aroused she can't tell if they actually make sense. And he slides out of her again and she whimpers a little. And that's when he slams into her. She grips the bedpost hard, until she can feel some splinters slide into her palms.

But she doesn't mind the pain.

All she feels is him, hot and hard in her. The perfect fit. And he keeps pounding into her.

And then she decides to change the game a little. Flipping around, startling him, she pounces on him and straddles him.

"Fuck..." is all he can say as she takes him into her and starts moving on top of him. And she can tell that he's trying so hard to stay impassive, so she swivels her hips in a clockwise fashion and she can hear a rumble. He's still touching her, playing with her clit, and now she's the one hissing. Bending down she puts her mouth on his and his hands rub her back, her thighs and they're wrapped up in one another. And part of her wants to prolong this, the slide of his body against hers, the heat between them. But then he moves inside her and she has to...just has to come...

He moves her on her back and pounds into her. She's huffing now and moaning. And both of them are starting to tremble, Voight groaning under his breath. Olivia hooks both legs around his waist and he slides in and out, in and out...until

 _Ugh._

 _Oh God..._

 _Don't stop, don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop._

He reaches down and plays with her clit, pressing down, and suddenly he feels her start to shake. _"Ohhhhhh_..." she starts to whimper and then she's coming apart and screaming and it's the hottest thing he's seen but he just keeps pounding while she seizes around him.

And when she spasms again, that's when he explodes with a low groan. And he collapses on her, still inside her. Her mouth traces his face, his ears, fingers running around his sweaty back. It was rough, it was gentle, it was everything.

She was everything.

He was everything.

They collapse against one another, letting the cool air from the ceiling fan blow against their backs.

….. **A few hours later...**

"Wow." Olivia collapsed on her back after their third bout of love-making.

"Tell me about it."

She leaned over to nuzzle his chest. "Have I told you how good it was to see you?"

"You might have mentioned it a few times." He said, a little tiredly, but with a sloppy grin on his face. Voight turned over to look at her face, she's glowing and absolutely beautiful to him.

"So where are we?" He asked seriously.

"Well," she said jokingly, "currently in your hotel bed, recovering from some of the best sex I've ever had."

He smiled a little and kissed her mouth. "Nice deflection, Benson, but you know we have to talk about this."

"I know." She buried herself under the sheets.

"If you're scared, that's okay." He said gently. "I'm not gonna bite."

Peering over the sheets, Olivia gave him a stare.

"Okay, I'm not gonna bite...much."

"I was gonna say – I have a few places on my body that may say otherwise."

She sat up, slinging her legs over the bed. "It's just complicated. I have Noah and live in New York. You're in Chicago. What if this gets more serious...someone's going to have to move and I have my job and I'm about to go for Lieutenant and I'm not sure..."

"Woah, woah. woah." Voight put his finger against his mouth. "Slow down, Benson."

Olivia stopped her rambling.

"No one said anything about moving. I just want to know what this" and he indicated the two of them, "is."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment, took a deep breath, and said, "The truth is, I'm kinda crazy about you, Benson. Despite the fact that you ask me to come to stuff like tonight and are basically a pain in my ass sometimes."

Olivia huffed, "If this is your way of wooing a girl, Voight, gotta tell you, it's not working very well."

"Dammit," Voight scratched his head with a slight smirk, "I thought that would have won you over."

She rolled her eyes at him.

He leaned over and rubbed her arm gently. "I don't know if this is love or what, Olivia. But I'd like to find out. I just need to know if you feel the same or if I'm just wasting my time. Be blunt, I can take it. I'm a big boy. If an occasional fuck is just what you want, then so be it."

After a long moment, Olivia looked down. "This isn't what I want, Voight." And she looked at him and saw the beginnings of disappointment across his face. But then she leaned over and touched his hand.

"I want to see where this is going, too. Look," she said apologetically, "I have a lousy track record when it comes to relationships. Maybe the problem was me." She added with a little bit of sadness.

"No, Benson." Voight leaned over and looked in her eyes. "The problem was with those idiots, not you. They weren't good enough."

"I'm damaged goods, Hank." She shrugged. "Damaged goods with a kid. Who would want that?"

"Have you even been listening?" Voight said with some exasperation. "I want you. Hell, I adore you. It's not just the sex – although, damn, that's goddamn spectacular – it's _you_. I want _you_ , Olivia Benson, the good parts and the bad parts and the parts you choose not to let me see."

She scanned his face and he'd never been more serious.

"I want you too." She said.

Voight grinned. "See, that wasn't _that_ hard."

She smacked his arm.

"Ow."

"Don't be such a baby, Hank."

"Insulting me now, are we?" He grinned at her, and pulled her close against his body. He was hard...again.

"You like it." She smiled at him lazily, reaching down under his sheet and stroking him.

"Hell, yeah." He kissed her mouth gently, nuzzling her nose.

"So does this mean I'm your girlfriend?" She looked up at him impishly as he lowered her to the bed again, sliding between her legs.

"Benson," he sighed, "I think we're a little too old for those labels." He thrust into her.

She arched up towards him. "You know what? I agree with you." _Oh, yes, move like that, please_.

"You agree with me?" He grinned down at her, sliding in and out. "Somewhere in hell people are breaking out their parkas."

She slapped his ass. "Stop talking, Henry Voight."

"Yes, ma'am." And he started thrusting harder, watching her eyes close as she writhed beneath him. She wrapped her legs around his waist again.

He brought his mouth down against her neck, her throat, her breasts. And she couldn't believe that he was all hers. Running her fingers through his closed cropped hair, she squeezed him as he continued pounding into her.

"I want you, Olivia Benson." He groaned against her neck.

And that was enough to make her explode. Pounding in and out of her, Voight rode out her orgasm and as he kissed her fiercely one more time, he stiffened and exploded in her.

"I want you too, Hank Voight." She whispered against his neck.

And they linked their hands together.

"Glad you came?" Liv smiled.

"Y'know, for a night of sheer torture, the end of it wasn't half bad." He teased.

She rolled her eyes – for the fifteenth time that evening.

"Here's to us." She kissed him softly.

"To us." He whispered against her mouth.

...

 _I would sacrifice anything come what might_  
 _For the sake of havin' you near_

 _'Cause I've got you under my skin._  
 _Yes, I've got you under my skin._


End file.
